


The Song of Hanevis

by Path



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 16:16:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10517325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Path/pseuds/Path
Summary: Csethiro, off on a reading spree, finds herself researching ancient accounts of the Emperor's nohecharei.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the kink meme; an in-universe text of the duel between Hanevis Athmaza and Orava the Usurper

It began as an attempt to research an entirely different aspect of the past, but, Csethiro reasoned, that is just how projects go, sometimes.

She had been combing through old texts for accounts of past nohecharei, for while there were many chronicles of stalwart, loyal Empresses, if any had also been _arms-bearing_ , that unlikely fact had been scrubbed from the pages of history. So instead she turned her eyes to accounts of the Emperor’s most devoted guards; with him more than his Empress, even, and often in the accounts more loyal. Certainly more _useful_. Csethiro had no intention of being useless.

She also had nothing to do with magic beyond the acquaintance of a handful of mazei, so she leant heavily towards stories of the guardians of the Emperor’s body, rather than his soul. This, she thought, was a role she could enjoy. And it did not seem as though her beloved husband would much disapprove of it; in fact, he seemed shyly appreciative of her fierce vigilance over him. Admittedly, so far she had been more the guardian of the Emperor’s reputation, than his body; it was her work to curb rumor among the courtiers. She took a particular pleasure in it, actually, since chances to honour-duel the Emperor’s naysayers were few at the moment, and also since it was so absurdly polar to the sort of thing the last Empress had spent her social time doing. It would never have occurred to Csoru to _quell_ rumors. 

So Csethiro, rather pleased to have the library of the Alcethmeret opened to her, had availed herself of the resources within. It was a small library, but the books kept there were exceedingly rare, and often unique. She had probably read every possible account of the First Soldiers of the past that the court library had to offer; she had actually probably read them all by the time she was thirteen. She had been starving for tales of noble warriors, upright soldiers, of brotherhoods-in-arms of all varieties. But these were new, so in her hours of leisure she read through anything the librarian could find her. He was a small man, back curved like a drawn bow, and Csethiro rather thought he had had little to do in Varenechibel’s reign- certainly not since Empress Pazhiro, or perhaps even before. Varenechibel had not been much of a scholar, which was supposed to be admirable in an emperor, and clearly his _last_ empress had not been much of one either. It went unsaid that being scholarly was not admirable in the empresses. The little man was all too eager and pleased to help with any request of Csethiro’s; Maia had obviously done him the sort of thoughtless great kindness he had done all his servants, and the librarian was as swoon-hearted devoted to him as any of them.

So she applied herself to her reading, and took in in greater detail the tales of Lieutenant Levihar, who had kept vigil over Edrethelema IV as assassins plagued the building of his grandfather’s great citadel; the then-Witness for the Treasury objected to the immense cost of the creation of the Untheileneise Court, and had decided to take matters into his own hands. Despite the relief of the Emperor’s Second nohecharei, Levihar had taken patrol in his off-hours, and in the end tracked the assassins back to their master, before calling the Guard down on the hapless Treasurer. There was a cunning woodblock that had been in none of the past accounts she had read, of the Lieutenant standing over the sleeping Emperor, a shadow lurking outside his window. Csethiro was not ashamed to note that it gave her a lovely thrill; imagine the chance to fend off a trained murderer over her sleeping husband! (To keep the daydream realistic, she told herself that Beshelar could be fending off some more of them downstairs.)

She read several other tales of heroic lieutenants in the Emperor’s service, but it was rare to find single stories of the soldiers alone; most of the accounts told of the twin efforts of soldier and maza, and so naturally she began to read of past heroic mazei as well. There were many, and several she had never heard of, and she spent several pleasant weeks with fantastically rare and well-preserved reading material before she realized she had drifted entirely onto tales of the mazei. They were a different tone entirely; far from the resourceful dedication of the lieutenants, stories of the Emperors’ mazei (and of other historic figures, once she began to drift in topic) were riddled with curious, impossible events, as fanciful as a child’s tale but hard to discount entirely. Often the writer had no more understanding of the maza’s ways than she herself, and so the stories were full of events Csethiro found ludicrously unlikely, but could not be sure never happened. 

There was a sketch in one of a dragon-looking creature the author labelled a _zhimeya_ , accompanied by a tale of a maza learning to conjure fire by eating one of its scales. In others, mazei could speak to animals or render their skin as hard as quartz. It was not exactly what Csethiro had been looking for, but it was so entrancing a read that she had a difficult time putting it down. 

When she returned the volume, the librarian handed her a stack on the reign of Beltanthiar III. The first book she picked, the oldest, did little more than mention Lieutenant Padhar in its climactic retelling, but focused more thoroughly on his partner, Hanevis Athmaza. Csethiro was of course familiar with the story; even girls were tutored on the purpose of mazei and the nohecharei, and Hanevis’ story was so tragic and admirable that it was universally referenced. In the uprising of the Usurper Orava, Hanevis had kept him from the Emperor until the Adremaza arrived to finish the fight. He had died in his Emperor’s arms, etcetera; it was a very popular subject for painting. Csethiro did not feel guilty skipping ahead to the good part.

Caught up in fanciful maza tales, Csethiro had not quite realized she had lost that jolt of energy she often took from tales of brave soldiers’ great deeds. The tales of magic were interesting, but from a scholar’s point of view, and not a warrior’s; she had taken to retelling some of the stories over dinners with her compatriots, many of whom were of a more intellectual bent than Csethiro herself. Several of Vedero’s friends were starving to get their hands on the sources Csethiro described to them, and Csethiro had enjoyed them thoroughly herself. But they hadn’t had that core of familiarity to her, ringing with the truths of devotion and bravery that she tried to emulate with every step.

So she found it unexpected that her scalp tingled as she read this particular work on Hanevis’ last stand; it described the battle in truthfully vicious terms, and she was quite transported.

_The Emperor was attacked on the very steps of the throne, and there was no warning whatsoever as Orava approached. Some speculate that he had “cloaked his footsteps in night”, but whether that is a rare maza ability, a personal accomplishment of Orava himself (accounted among the most powerful magicians of Ethuverazeise history), or merely conjecture, is unknown. What is sure is that the first casualty was the Emperor’s First Lieutenant, Padhar, who was caught from behind in a blaze of green fire and immolated. Orava stepped forward to take the Emperor, next, wreathed in green flame and decounting Beltanthiar as weak, overextended, unable to protect his lands or his throne. This is the moment so popular among historians and artists alike, as Hanevis Athmaza, having witnessed the fall of his partner and the threat to his most beloved Emperor, stepped forward next. What followed was a duel of magic all but unseen in the Elflands; for Orava was, as we have made clear, a nearly unparalleled sorcerer, and though Hanevis was not his equal, he was of course a dachenmaza of no mean ability._

_The duel wreaked havoc on the Untheileian, shattering windows with the forces of the magical blows delivered, and littering the floor with coloured glass. Courtiers fled for fear of their lives, for great gusts of cyclonic wind and bursts of fire travelled with the duelists, and great chunks of rock were ripped from the foundation of the audience chamber and hurled through the air. Padhar was by no means the only casualty._

_Hanevis Athmaza, of course, sought to extend the duel, famously holding out for the arrival of Erezet Adremaza. Orava, contrarily, sought to end it quickly, for he knew Hanevis was not the last challenge to his strength, and a quick victory would not drain him as an extended combat would. Hanevis fought with cunning and wits, using his resources to keep Orava from the Emperor, who stood by his throne the length of the battle, visibly stalwart to his courtiers and his champion alike. Hanevis used the environment with no regard for the preservation of the Untheileian; he tore glass, lead, and stone alike to place as barriers between his Emperor and the Usurper, and so too did he bring walls of sheer force, of flame and frigid wind, to batter back Orava._

_Orava was forced to spend more effort than he had wished on merely getting to Hanevis. As we know, the efforts to keep the Usurper back had drained Hanevis more than bypassing them had drained Orava, but by then Hanevis must have been sure that his truest duty as nohecharis had come, and he approached the battle with every ounce of his power, shepherding none. It was only once he had run his powers all to nothing that he was brought down. Orava seized the sword from Hanevis’ fallen comrade Padhar, ran it through Hanevis’ heart, and followed it with a crack of lightning conjured straight to the pommel. Even so, Hanevis did not fall until the Adremaza himself had entered the great chamber._

_The battle between the two greater maza was quicker than the first, for in his resourcefulness Hanevis had used his powers well. Erezet Adremaza’s strength may have been lesser or perhaps equalled Orava’s at his peak, but Hanevis had contrived to drain Orava more than he had known, and the Adremaza’s duel against the Usurper was as swift as possible against a foe with such unmatched abilities._

_Loyal Hanevis, meanwhile, lay dying in the arms of his ruler and lover, for Beltanthiar had left his throne the moment his beloved champion fell; the two exchanged one last kiss before Ulis claimed Hanevis’ breath. It is said that Beltanthiar was never the same afterwards, and that though he appointed two new nohecharei swiftly after the battle, he would not take another lover._

_The reconstruction of the Untheileian would take months after Orava’s defeat, and-_

Csethiro stopped reading. Surely she had misread? She had never read nor heard this version of the story. Certainly the battle was described in much greater detail, but this bit about Hanevis, beloved of the Emperor? And here was a watercolour on the page facing; the ubiquitous scene of Hanevis clasped in Beltanthiar’s arms, but they were shown in a deep kiss, the Emperor’s hand gently held to his maza’s cheek. _That_ was certainly absent from any of the works she had studied previously. And this work was supposed to be the older… she wondered how many other stories there were lurking in the Emperor’s library that had been ruthlessly scrubbed for public consumption.

She was already turning back to the earlier chapters she had skipped from supposed familiarity. She was rather surprised that this was exactly what she was looking for, for the story of a dedicated warrior beloved of the Emperor, his cherished and his champion. She was no maza, but she had exactly what Hanevis must have had: passion, strength, devotion. This was, as close as she had ever come, a story of her. And if this existed, buried in the archives accessible only to the Emperor and his chosen, might there not also be stories of the brave, sword-wielding Empresses she had not dared to dream of?

She would have to read the rest of it. It was an impressive collection; she had better step up her pace, or perhaps ask for one of Vedero’s friends to assist her. She was sure she could find a volunteer.


End file.
